Waiting. Waiting.
For what? I'm unsure.
Waiting, hoping, wishing for something more.
I hope I will recognise, the moment I see it.
So often, I find something that I hope may be it...
No. That isn't what I'm waiting for.
So I hope, and I wish, and I wait some more.
Waiting. Waiting.
How long? I know not.
Of course, there is a reason;
I suppose I forgot.
The same gentle voice, that whispers my name.
I turn around, to find I am alone again.
So many come and go, but yet, here I stay.
Waiting, hoping and wishing, every day.
I may have found it once, in my utopian dream.
It lingered for a moment, though much longer, it seemed.
Morning came, with it, the taste of my tears.
A thousand lies, and my forgotten fears.
Waiting. Waiting.
For what? I may never find.
Now I am certain, it came before,
Only to leave me behind.